Crimson (Teen lock)
by TheMoonIsBrightTonight
Summary: Being troubled is just a phase right? (A Teen Sherlock story.)


**Warning: HUGE TRIGGER WARNING HERE GUYS. THERE IS SELF HARM IN THIS STORY.**

**Hello my lovelies, Just a little Teen Sherlock for you, I've been working on this in spare time and I've kind of gotten hooked. I feel like teen/ young Sherlock would have been very troubled. Don't read this if you dislike angsty stories, also I'm thinking of making this true to his character (being that Sherlock is actually Asexual.) So therefore you probably won't see much of his beloved John. Thus I leave you with the beginnings of Teenlock. **

Sherlock wound his thin fingers around the edge of a glass. He had just gotten home from school and felt absolutely _exhausted. _The weekend couldn't of come soon enough_._

Mycroft gazed over the arm of the couch to stare at his _special _brother. It's not that the wiry teen looked different, it was the other way around, his mind was a rarity. Sherlock attempting normality was not even possible to imagine, and sharing his flat with the moody boy was difficult.

"You're staring."

"Was I?" Mycroft cocked his head and Sherlock snorted in annoyance.

"How was school?

"Fantastic."

You never talk, and when you do, it's because of _science." _

_"_You underestimate it brother."

"You over think it."

They glare at each other. Sherlock pulls at his shirt uncomfortably.

"Sherlock?"

"What!"

"It's your Birthday next week, 16 hey?" Mycroft's fingers run smoothly over a magazine on the coffee table. "Do you want something?"

"I want a lot of things."

"I'm not getting you that horrid bacterial growing kit. Petri dishes freak me out."

"That's your opinion."

Mycroft stops and stands up, his brow furrows. "Are you okay?"

The concern was there, but his brother the "normal one" was the only one he knew that expressed such genuine words toward him. It was slightly disgusting but at the same time it never failed to upset him.

"Fine." _Lie, lie, lie… _

"I'm going out then." Mycroft strides down the hall mumbling nonsense under his breath.

When you're not what society deems as normal, your considered weird, at school Sherlock was weird. If you're weird you attract unwanted attention. Too much unwanted attention is _horrible, _thus Sherlock feared his peers.

"Wanker."

"Twig."

"Idiot."

All these breezed over. Generic name-calling was pathetic, not worth anyone's time.

_"Freak." _That one hurt more than he would like to admit. The bullying was relentless…

He'd pack up early in chemistry, because the boy two bays down liked to drop acid on his fingers.

"Don't cry freak." He'd sneer, and the others would chuckle. Being tormented does things to you…

At home he felt stripped raw. No appetite, no nothing. Just pain. A dull ache. But the stolen cigarettes from the teachers lounge always came in handy for that.

Once at home behind the safety of his bedroom door, he'd dump his bag, and pull out the Marlboro packet from one of the pockets and light one. The smoke burned his throat and filled his lungs. The best part was pressing the glowing butt to the delicate skin at his wrist to put it out, the small tingle left from the burn felt fantastic.

Mornings were hell; Sherlock's insomnia was persistent. He'd fling back the covers, snatch a towel from the hallway, and make his way to the shower.

On this particular morning he could hear his brother singing obnoxiously from behind the closed door.

"Get out!"

"Absolutely not!"

"My turn!"

"5 minutes."

"Fine!"

Sherlock lingered by the shower door, towel in hand. He brushes his wrist and stares at the marks from the night before, they weren't that bad. It could be worse. He thought about what kind of damage a razor could do, and if it would be worth trying that instead. He jumped when Mycroft flung open the door.

"What are you going?"

"Nothing." Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

"Well it's all yours." Sherlock nodded as a strong smell filled his nostrils.

"You have a date?"

"Yes. How did you gather that?" He seemed intrigued; once again Mycroft was the only one who ever seem curious about him.

"Aftershave and you're wearing the dress oxfords Mum bought you."

"You could work for the government you know."

"It's basic deducing… And aren't _you_ trying to get into the Government?"

"Maybe."

"Don't you date Sherlock?"

"Don't change the subject. And no" He pushes past his brother and into the bathroom. Dropping his change of clothes on the floor, he stares at his reflection in the mirror.

_Repulsive…_

He had never been pleased with the way he looked; too thin; too tall. His dark brown hair fell in ringlets around his ears and covered his eyes. His eyes were green; he traced one of the dark rings around them. He thought his lips were oddly shaped and his skin was far too pasty. The boy blinks emotionless, staring wide-eyed at the figure in front of him. How could one be detested so much? It's not like he asked to be this way, mind barely touched, the normal human mechanisms were almost completely diminished. He looked closer; inspecting his body I mean it looked normal.

Almost 16 his shoulders were getting broader, puberty brought hormones and he had a few spots (nothing drastic). Recently, his voice seemed to be getting deeper and deeper. He shuddered at the thought of maturity, and yet it brought freedom. Sex was unspoken of, Sherlock was well aware of feeling like a fish out of water, but this was different. He felt neutral about it all; he didn't yet feel the urges that his classmates seemed to express. And logically, he knew it could be a problem down the path, but at this stage he wasn't ready to admit it. He slaps his hand against the mirror and it shudders.

Now pulling open the draws franticly, Sherlock finds himself searching for his brother's razor. He swipes at the fresh tears running mercilessly down his cheeks.

_Not again…_

Emotional breakdowns happened all to often.

It would be different this time, it will mean feeling something. He grabs the razor blade between trembling fingers and turns the water on. Under the running water, he sits cross-legged on the bottom of the tub and pauses momentarily.

"Sherlock Holmes don't you DARE!"

**To be continued I guess** :P

**If you read this and enjoyed it let me know why, if not, how could I make it better? If any readers having any future chapter ideas let me know I'm all for suggestions! Thank you! :3 **


End file.
